


Herald of Andraste

by ElfrootAddict



Series: Halla & Wolf [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dalish, F/M, Haven, Herald of Andraste, first conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25236181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfrootAddict/pseuds/ElfrootAddict
Summary: El'lana’s entire world is turned upside down when she, a proud Dalish elf, is bestowed the title “Herald of Andraste”.
Relationships: El'lana Aemma Lavellan/ Solas, El'lana Aemma Lavellen/ Varric Tethras
Series: Halla & Wolf [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828126
Kudos: 2





	1. Herald of Andraste

It was only yesterday that Lana woke up to find herself on a large bed, in a warm cabin - instead of lying outside on the cold stone floor of the temple’s ruins.

Confused by her surroundings, Lana abruptly sits up and frightens an unexpected young elven woman who immediately drops her supply box as she falls to her knees, plants her hands on the floor and exclaims, “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a _humble servant_.”

Lana’s heart leapt when she saw a fellow elf kneel before her, “Creators lethallan, _what are you doing?_ ”

The elf only bowed lower as her forehead almost touched the floor, “You are back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand,” 

Lana looked down at her hand and noticed the magic subduedly illuminating underneath her skin. It felt suppressed and dormant.

“It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”

“Three days?!” shrieked Lana as she looked up from her hand.

To Lana, it felt as if she had merely fainted for a brief moment. However, instead of a minute or two, it had been days. And instead of waking up at the temple, she was back in Haven, in a cabin, and with an elf claiming to be her humble servant. 

To say Lana was wholly confused would have been the understatement of her lifetime.

Lana stared out the window of the cabin, watching the snow slowly trickle down as she tried to make sense of her rapidly evolving situation. While deep into her thoughts, the elven woman rose to her feet and nervously headed for the door, “…she said, ‘At once’.” and left the cabin in a great hurry.

Desperate for answers, Lana decided to get dressed and find Cassandra. Once changed out of the night dress, someone had put her in, and back into her old, filthy human clothes, Lana opened the door of the cabin and found herself standing in front of a horde of humans. One by one, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared with mouths agape.

As she slowly walked through the crowd of gawkers, she heard many whispering, “The Herald of Andraste! That’s her! That’s the Herald!”

Lana felt she needed to do a few double-takes to make sure she had heard them correctly, and to her astonishment it seemed there was no denying what she had heard. 

_The Herald of Andraste? Mythal, ar halani lasa ghilan. I fear I may need it now more than ever before._

After awkwardly walking her way through the crowd and into the Chantry, Lana eventually reached the closed internal door within and immediately overheard people shouting on the other side. One voice she recognized to be Cassandra, and the other belonging to the senior Chantry gentlemen on the bridge days before. 

“Have you gone completely mad?” cried the Chancellor. “She should be taken to Val Royeaux _immediately_ and be tried by whomever becomes Divine!”

“I do not believe she is guilty.” Cassandra insisted.

“The elf _failed_ , Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky! For you all know, she intended it this way.”

“I do not believe that.” 

“That is not for _you_ to decide,” demanded the Chancellor. “Your duty is to serve the Chantry.”

“My _duty_ is to serve the _principles_ on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. _As is yours_.”

Deciding that was as good of a time as any, Lana opened the door to find Cassandra, the Chancellor and Liliana standing around a large, wooden table. If they were going to be talking about her, she might as well be part of it. She was not going to allow these humans decide her fate. That’s what Lhoris would have done. 

“Chain her!” cried the Chancellor to the two Templars situated on either side of the door. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital, for trial.”

“Disregard that,” Cassandra ordered. “And leave us.”

And, so they did.

Lana stood awkwardly as Cassandra and Lilliana fought with the Chancellor over who had authority to do what. It was a dual, where their weapons of choice were their words. Each sentence cutting their opponent down precisely where they knew it would cause the most pain.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, a loud bang filled the room and Lana noticed Cassandra pointing to a thick, ancient book on the wooden table between them.

“You know what this is, Chancellor. A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act,” Cassandra paused as she looked about the room. “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn,” and walked towards the Chancellor threateningly. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. _With or without your approval_.”

Cassandra, having clearly won their verbal-duel, left the Chancellor with no other option but for him to leave the room defeated. Although she had been victorious, Cassandra did not look happy about it. 

Liliana turned to Lana and explained, “This is the Divine’s directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos,” and then sighed with a heavy heart. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now… no Chantry support.”

As a Dalish elf, Lana’s knowledge was understandably focused on elvhen culture, history, and magic. Up until recently, she never had any reason to know about human history. However, considering the situation, this had needed to be rectified. 

Lana was pleasantly surprised to find that, despite her numerous questions, Cassandra and Liliana seemed more than happy to divulge their understanding of the ancient writ and answer all of Lana’s immediate questions as best they could. 

“The Chantry will take time to find a new Divine, and then it will wait for her direction.” advised Liliana.

“But we cannot wait,” insisted Cassandra. “So many grand clerics died at the Conclave,” looking fiercely towards Lana. “No, we are on our own. Perhaps forever.” and then Cassandra turned her glare from Lana’s eyes to the dormant magical mark on her hand.

With her hand extended, like equals, Cassandra regarded Lana as she asked a heavy question with ease, “Help us fix this Mistress Lavellan, before it’s too late.”

The moment had demanded an immediate response, and with no time given to mull-over the decision or to find some way to escape this madness, Lana looked down at the Seeker’s hand and took a deep breath as she stepped forward, and shook Cassandra’s hand in agreement. 

Cassandra and Liliana then excused themselves so that they could inform the others, which meant leaving Lana alone in the room.

Immediately, Lana regretted her decision.

_What. The. Fuck. Have. You. Done?!_

When Cassandra asked her to help seal the Breach days before, Lana naively assumed her responsibility would end then and there. 

But now, Lana had agreed to become apart of this human ‘Inquisition’. 

_You fool! Why are you like this? You should be heading back home so the Keeper can find a way to remove this damn magic from your hand! Not keep helping these shems!_

Lana then looked down at her hand as her heart thrashed around inside her chest, and fear roared in her eyes.

As each moment passed with Lana staring into her palm, she slowly realised the full weight of her responsibility and the true reality of the situation. Her responsibility and role in this mess was far too great to ignore, no matter how hard she willed it away. No matter how nauseous her decision made her feel. No matter how harshly she scolded herself for the decision she made just now. 

_This Breach threatens not just these shems, but the whole of Thedas… which includes everyone back home. The Keeper. Tamara. Lhoris. Everyone._

_And with this mark…_

_This mark is the only thing that is able to seal these tears in the Veil. So what choice do I really have? If I run, what does that say about me? Could I honestly leave knowing I’m the only one capable of sealing these tears? What would the Keeper say?_

Lana closed her eyes, took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and walked out the room closing the door behind her. 

_She would tell me to stay. She would tell me to take this as an opportunity to mend the bridge between the shems and the elvhen. Show the shems that the Dalish are capable of helping others beyond our kin._

As Lana slowly walked through the Chantry, she began admiring the peacefulness within. The Chantry sisters praying quietly in front of the dimly lit candles, the hushed ambiance, and the small trickle of sunlight creeping through the windows above its great doors. 

_She would tell me that I can do this. That I have the fire of mamae and the caution of papae. That if I’ve made it this far, then I can do what comes next. Helping these shems is the right thing to do._

Once Lana exited the Chantry, she found herself once again in front of a crowd of on-lookers. However, this time Cassandra, Liliana, Josephine Montilyet and Commander Cullen immediately turned and gestured for her to join them in formation as they officially announced the rebirth of the Inquisition. 

_Okay, Keeper. Then that is what I’ll do. For you and for the People. I will help fix this mess. For I am a proud, Dalish, elf. Arlathvhen, Mythal ar lasa ghilan._

__

**_Elvish to English Translation:_ **

  * _“Mythal, ar halani lasa ghilan”_ = Mythal, help me and guide me
  * _“Arlathvhen, Mythal ar lasa ghilan”_ = For the love of the People, Mythal guide me.



__


	2. Herald of Andraste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> El'lana’s entire world is turned upside down when she, a proud Dalish elf, is bestowed the title “Herald of Andraste”.

It’s been just over four days since the prisoner’s attempt of closing the Breach, and Solas did not expect her to survive. As she lay unconscious for hours, then a day, and then into several nights, it was only a matter of time before she would be declared dead. 

_She may have survived the Conclave by accidentally entering the Fade,_ Solas thought to himself, _but to survive closing the Breach with her magical limitations? Impossible._

Just as Solas had theorised, the mark had stopped spreading like the Breach, which helped solidify his value to Cassandra. Seems her desire to see him executed will have to wait. 

When nearing the end of the third day, Solas was preparing the little belongings he had in anticipation of the prisoner’s demise, so that he could reconnect with his agents as soon as possible.

However, not too long after making the decision to leave did he notice a lot of stirring and commotion amongst the people of Haven. Suddenly everyone started rushing to witness something. Or someone. 

While keeping his distance, Solas witnessed Lana awkwardly shuffle through the gawking crowd of people. 

_This prisoner somehow managed to defy all reasonable odds. Again?_

Only when Lana disappeared into the Chantry, did Solas retreat back to his cabin to reconsider his strategy. A few thoughts had come to mind but he quickly settled on one; he was going to leave regardless, and have one of his agents spy on the prisoner for him. His time is too valuable, and he was not going to waste it here, especially when his spies could do the work for him just fine. 

Also, he was not comfortable being the only apostate amongst so many unrestrained Chantry forces. Rumours of the rebel mages causing the Breach was growing, and he wanted no part in it.

Once Solas was packed and ready to leave, he opened his cabin to once again find the people of Haven gathering to witness something else. This time, it was in front of the Chantry. 

With his curiosity peaked, Solas decided to quickly see what the commotion was all about before he left. 

As Solas reached a perfectly concealed spot, he patiently watched and waited as Cassandra, Liliana, Josephine Montyliet and Commander Cullan stood ideally by in a huddle in front of the slowly growing crowd. After a few moments of nothing, Solas decided it was probably no more than a public service announcement of sorts for the people of Haven.

As Solas was about to turn to leave, he suddenly saw the prisoner step out of the Chantry. With genuine shock slapped across his face, Solas witnessed Cassandra gesture for the prisoner to stand with them in formation, as an equal, and announce the rebirth of the Inquisition. 

As momentous as the occasion was to witness, especially considering it was current and not a memory in the Fade, Solas could not help but bewilderedly stare at the prisoner as she stood front-in-center of the ceremony.

 _She is clearly no longer their prisoner. No, she has become someone important. Someone, I need to keep an eye on myself._

***

It is now the fourth day, in the late afternoon, and the people of Haven are starting to prepare for the evening meals. Solas is making his way back to his cabin when he passes Varric, who is warming himself by a large fire, and regards him with a friendly nod.

“Hey, Chuckles! Hold on a moment.”

Solas stops to turn around, “Yes, Master Tethras?”

“Please, Varric is fine. I’m not one for fancy titles.”

“My apologies, Varric. What can I do for you?” and with a subtle, polite gesture from Solas, the two men continue walking together. 

“Look, I don’t like telling people what to do just as much as the next guy, but I can tell when someone needs company.”

Solas looks down at the dwarf slightly puzzled, “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I am in no need of any company?”

“I wasn’t talking about _you_.”

The two men walk up a small flight of steps which leads to a large, open space with cabins situated on either side, and another directly in front. 

“Who, then?”

Varric folds his arms across his chest, and cocks his head over his left shoulder and whispers, “ _Lana_.”

Solas leans to the side and notices a pair of two bare feet, wrapped in thin, makeshift leather strips, hiding behind the cabin opposite to his.

“What does that have to do with me?”

Varric sighs loudly, “I understand you like being alone, but our little Dalish there? From what I could gather, this is probably the first time in her _life_ that she’s been away from her clan.”

Solas becomes visibly uncomfortable at Varric’s insinuation, “And you think because I’m an _elf_ , that _I_ would be able to console her?”

Throwing his hands up and shaking his head, “Is that so hard to understand? Sure, there is Minaeve but she’s too, you know, _Andrastian_. Lana would perhaps enjoy talking to someone less, Chantry?” Varric sighs and crosses his arms. “Look, just go talk to her will you? Maker’s breath, she won’t bite!” and walks away, leaving Solas with a decision. 

All Solas wanted to do was to get out of the blasted Fereldan cold. He looks down at his toes, sighs, and realises they are going to have to stay frozen a little while longer. 

As Solas begins his quiet approach, he notice’s Lana sitting on a loose fur rug, knees close to her chest, and with her back against the cabin as she softly hums a melody to herself. Solas also notices an ink pot beside her, and then sees her slowly guiding the quill on some parchment as she draws a pair of eyes.

As Solas’s shadow casts down on Lana, she looks up from her sketch and immediately squeals from fright, causing Solas’s entire body to subtly jolt as he tries not to squeal in return. 

That would be entirely unbecoming. 

Lana brings her hand up to block the sun’s rays, her eyes trying to adjust to the silhouette towering above her. Soon small details begin to reveal themselves, and Lana eventually recognises that it’s Solas. 

Taking in a deep breath of relief, Lana chuckles loudly, “Ir abelas, lethallin! I wasn’t expecting anybody to find me here.”

After quietly composing himself, Solas calmly responds, “Apologies. It seems I have frightened you. I should have announced my presence sooner.” 

Lana removes her gaze and looks back at her sketch, “Oh no, don’t worry. I just startle easily. Not a very good trait for someone to have in my position, I suppose.” and turns to look back up at Solas with a gentle, innocent smile.

“Do not bother yourself with their perceptions of you. For it is your mark they are primarily concerned about, after all.”

Lana sighs, “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Is there something you needed, Solas? Is Cassandra looking for me?”

“No, Cassandra does not need you. If it’s no trouble, would you mind if I joined you?”

Lana’s smile widens, and she happily moves her ink pot out the way as she shuffles herself over to make more room on the rug, “No of course not, you can sit here.” and taps her hand on the empty space. 

Solas places his staff against the cabin and sits down next to her. With his legs crossed, Solas turns to regard Lana, “So, _the Chosen of Andraste_ , a blessed hero sent to save us all.”

Lana’s shoulder length, silver hair swoops in a flick as she looks around to ensure nobody but Solas can hear her, “ _Banal!_ These shems are crazy. I’m not,” forming air quotations. “The ‘Herald of Andraste’ and I have no interest in being anyone’s hero,” and she leans back against the cabin to continue drawing. “All I want is to find a way to seal this Breach. Ghilas ma vhenas.”

Solas releases a quiet sigh under his breath, “Pragmatic, but ultimately irrelevant,” and he too, looks down at Lana’s sketch. “Who is that?”

“Keeper Deshanna,” answers Lana proudly and turns to look up at Solas. Based on his subtly confused expression, she realises she needs to explain. “She’s the Keeper of my clan.”

Solas offers a subtle nod in response and quietly critiques her skills, and determines she is quite talented, “Why are you drawing your Keeper?”

Lana rests her quill on the parchment and sighs, “I… well… you might think it strange. But I wanted to draw the faces of my family back home. I don’t-” 

Lana turns away from Solas and clears her throat. “I don’t know when I’ll see them again, and I want something to look back on while I’m here,” and turns back at the parchment. “Something to help me remember their faces,”

Lana quickly wipes away at an escaped tear and releases a soft, embarrassed laugh, “Ir abelas. You don’t have to sit with me. I actually don’t mind my own company.”

“Neither, do I,” murmurs Solas. “The company of others can be quite trying.”

_Except for some Spirits._

Lana’s face immediately bursts into a happier demeanour, “Me, too! Ugh, especially with shems! I don’t know how to act around them. I don’t have a lot of experience, obviously.”

Solas is surprised to find Lana using the word ‘shem’ without a hint of disgust as one would expect from a Dalish elf. The only thing Solas finds the Dalish and city elves have in common, are their constant derogatory tones whenever they say “shem”. However, Lana appears to be saying it without contempt and Solas finds himself curious over why that is.

Offering only another subtle nod as a response, Solas decides to keep their conversation going a little while longer, “If you don’t mind me asking, I heard you humming before, and I’ve never heard such a beautiful melody in any of my travels before. Is it of your own making?”

“Oh, you heard that? No, I didn’t create it. It’s actually a very old Dalish song parents sing to their little ones before bed. It’s called _Mir Da’len Somniar_ ,” and turns warmly to admire her sketch. “The Keeper always sang it to me.”

“Why not your own parents?”

Lana’s face suddenly stiffens as she falls quiet, and Solas immediately regrets having asked the question, “I’m sorry. I seemed to have upset you. Forget I asked.”

Lana continues sketching and eventually answers, “For a time they did, but they died. A long time ago. The Keeper raised me as her own.” and with that, Lana continues shaping the eyes of the Keeper.

With a gentle voice, Solas murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay, you didn’t know.” and Lana finalises the details on the eyes and then begins with the eyebrows. 

With their conversation having suddenly reached an immediate halt, with neither one knowing what to say next, Solas decides to talk about the one thing he feels the most comfortable with. The Fade.

While focusing his gaze on the Breach in the sky, Solas unpromptly shares one of his many veracious stories with Lana, “I’ve journeyed deep into the Fade to ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations,” Lana stops to regard him and Solas, still focused on the Breach, doesn’t take notice. “I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten,” he turns to face Lana and is startled to find her gaze already upon him. “You say you don’t want to be a hero but every great war has its heroes. I’m just curious what kind you’ll be?”

Lana ignores the question and instead asks one of her own, “Ruins and battlefields? What do you mean?”

Solas is pleasantly surprised at Lana actually having paid attention, as he expected her to answer his question boldly and ignorantly. Instead, he has unintentionally piqued her curiosity, and suddenly feels a rush of excitement over the fact. 

Solas turns his body slightly towards Lana as he gladly educates, “Any building strong enough to withstand the riggers of time has a history. Every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds,” Solas turns away, losing himself in his mind’s eye. “When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen.”

Lana places a light hand on Solas’s shoulder as she cries out in horror, “You fall asleep in the middle of ancient ruins? Isn’t that dangerous?”

Solas takes a quick glance at her hand on his shoulder, and releases a cheeky smile, “I _do_ set wards. And if you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live.”

Lana drops her hand and looks away as she contemplates on what Solas has shared with her. Her eyes appear wider than usual as they dart from side-to-side. Then, as she looks back up, Solas holds his breath as he braces himself for her to either disregard or openly mock him for his choice of study.

_They always do._

“I’ve never heard of _anyone_ going so far into the Fade before, Solas,” her smile widens with pure, innocent excitement. “ _That’s extraordinary!_ ”

This has yet to be the most positive response he has ever received. The moment Solas would mention his studies and observations of the Fade, people either politely excuse themselves or openly mock him. They would _never_ ask questions and then openly praise him for his accomplishments.

Solas’s emotions begin to turn as he starts to feel guilty for having such animosity towards Lana before. At a minimum, he expected her to be crude and hostile, just like all the other Dalish people he’s come across. The last thing he thought she would be… is agreeable. If it wasn’t for her vallaslin, he would not associate her as Dalish at all. 

Humbled by Lana’s excitement, Solas smiles, “Thank you. It’s not a common field of study, for obvious reasons. Not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning. The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream? I would not trade it for anything,” Solas pauses, losing himself in his thoughts yet again. Unsure of what to say in light of his sudden silence, Lana awkwardly looks away to observe her sketch. 

“I will stay then,” announces Solas as he breaks the silence between them, causing Lana to face him once again. “At least until the Breach has been closed.”

“You weren’t going to stay?”

“I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces and unlike _you_ , I do not have a divine mark protecting me,” Solas lowers his voice as he murmurs. “Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution.”

Lana averts her gaze and thinks about her next few words very carefully, “You came here to help, Solas,” and turns back to look deep into his eyes. “For as long as they care for my opinion, I won’t let them use that against you.”

“And how would you stop them?” he asks smugly.

“However I had to. As a Dalish and First, I will not sit by and let _any_ elf be subjected to shemlen arrogance.”

This time, Solas noticed she said ‘shemlen’ with disgust.

Despite Lana meaning what she said, he still admires her courage, however misguided it may be. Solas knows she holds no real power over the humans should they wish to harm him. Nevertheless, Solas doesn’t want to appear ungrateful towards her display of bravery on his behalf, and answers with a simple polite bow. 

Content with their conversation and his toes practically turned to frostbite, he decides this would be a good time as any to head back to his cabin. 

However, just as he is about to stand up, Lana unexpectedly puts her quill and papers down on the ground, perks herself up as her, and with her overall mood clearly improved she looks at him with her wide, lavender eyes.

_More questions?_

**_Elvish to English Translation:_ **

  * _“Ir abelas, lethallin”_ = I’m sorry, lethallin
  * _“Banal”_ = Never
  * _“Ghilas ma vhenas”_ = I want to go home




	3. Herald of Andraste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> El'lana’s entire world is turned upside down when she, a proud Dalish elf, is bestowed the title “Herald of Andraste”.

Lana cannot deny that she was slightly annoyed by the interruption. When she sketches, her mind wanders to far off places and thinks about pleasant memories or hopeful visions of her future. It is the best way to distract herself from her usual thoughts which are normally filled with countless worries and pessimism. 

However, after hearing one of Solas’s journeys in the Fade, she finds herself completely captivated and has to know more. 

It is common knowledge in Thedas, that magic and the Fade are intrinsically linked. Knowledge of the Fade amongst the Dalish has been understandably specific, and only suited to the needs of keeping one’s clan safe. Throughout the ages, such precious knowledge has been passed on from Keeper to Keeper, and unfortunately for Lana there would almost never be any new insight into the mysteries of the Fade. 

And now, for the first time in her life, someone else can tell her more about the Fade than the Keeper, and Lana decides to seize the opportunity to learn as much as she can. 

Although she does not want to come across completely self-serving, despite her noble pursuit of more knowledge, Lana decides a bit of give-and-take between them is the polite thing to do before she asks him an abundance of questions about the Fade. 

“Before you go Solas, I was hoping, if it was no trouble of course, to tell me more about yourself? Where-”

“Why?” interrupts Solas skeptically with a sudden and unexpected shift in demeanor.

“Um… why not?”

“Privacy? Caution? Concern about the direction of this Inquisition once our work is done?”

Visibly uncomfortable by his indifferent response, Lana averts her gaze and turns away, “Ir abelas. I didn’t mean…,” and turns to look at him once more. “I wasn’t asking as someone whose part of the Inquisition. You don’t have to tell me anything. Ar dirth’ma.”

Feeling utterly embarrassed by the awkward tension between them, Lana’s cheeks flush with a soft hue of red as she quickly gathers her things to leave. This was not how she expected things would go by asking what she assumed to be a simple, innocent question.

_Things really are different here than back home. Creators, I just want to go home._

Feeling guilty for his unnecessary impertinence, Solas relaxes his shoulders and releases a loud, audible sigh of regret, “No, I am sorry…with so much fear in the air…”

With her belongings collected and held tightly in her arms, Lana stands while still refusing to meet his gaze. Solas promptly stands as well and to Lana’s surprise, he continues to pursue with his feeble attempt at an apology. 

“Shall we go for a walk? We will feel far less of the cold if we’re moving instead of sitting idly.”

Lana pauses before turning around with a weak smile and murmurs, “Sure, that sounds like a good idea.” and Solas smiles softly in return, and gestures for Lana to walk ahead of him. 

Once reaching a lengthy distance between them, Lana turns around and watches Solas, with his staff in hand, catch up with her.

Only once Solas is at her side, does Lana begin to notice how tall he actually is. He may not be as tall as Lhoris, but he is still tall enough that she needs to turn her head up to meet his gaze.

Lana and Solas begin their descent down the steps towards Haven’s tavern and Solas eventually breaks the silence, “So, what would you know of me, da’len?”

Still feeling anxious by his cold response only moments before, Lana cautiously and hesitantly asks, “I was wondering… are you from the city? Only because I was told only city elves don’t have a vallaslin.”

“No.”

“But, if you’re not a city elf…”

“Not all elves are resigned to being either ‘city’ or ‘Dalish’. I, for one, have always preferred to keep to myself.”

“So, does that mean you’ve always been alone?”

Solas elaborates with a gentle smile, “Not at all. I have built lasting friendships. Spirits of Wisdom, possessed of ancient knowledge, happy to share what they had seen. Spirits of Purpose helped me search. Even wisps, curious and playful, would point out treasures I might have missed.”

Lana begins to feel a little more at ease due to Solas’s happier conduct and attempts to make eye contact, “I didn’t realise that there are Spirits that go by those names. Why haven’t I heard of them before?”

“They rarely seek this world,” answers Solas grimly. “When they do, their natures do not often survive exposure to the people they encounter,” Solas and Lana pass Varric’s tent and take a sharp left down a small flight of steps. “Wisdom and Purpose are too easily twisted into Pride and Desire.”

Shocked, Lana stops halfway down the steps and softly cries out, “So you’re saying… you became friends with _Pride and Desire demons?_ ”

Solas also stops and drops his head as he releases a loud, audible sigh before slowly turning around, “They were not demons… for me.”

Lana stares blankly at Solas as she tries not to jump to any immediate assumptions. Even though she knows very little, to almost nothing about Solas, he does not appear to be someone who is either naive or blissfully ignorant. In fact, he seems to have something of a quiet confidence. His strides always seem purposeful and with intent. Therefore, it they were not demons for him as he so claims, then as strange as it seem, the Spirits really were just as he says - ones of Wisdom and Purpose.

However, based on Lana’s bemused expression, Solas realises he clearly needs to explain, “The Fade reflects the mind of the living. If you expect a Spirit of Wisdom to be a Pride demon, it will adapt,” and gestures for them to continue walking onwards. “And if your mind is free of corrupting influences? If you understand the nature of the Spirit? They can be fast friends.”

“I honestly had no idea that some demons are actually… twisted, innocent Spirits. That’s… that’s actually quite sad,”

“Yes, it is.”

Looking up at Solas respectfully, “And you say that you managed to become friends with some of them? Without them even turning into demons? That really is incredible, Solas.”

Having reached the end of the stairs, they take another left and pass a merchant selling weapons and armour, “Oh! Oh! You are the Herald of Andraste!”

“Please, I’m not-”

“Why, it is an honour! Are you in need of anything? Please let me know what I can get for you?”

Lana manages to stop herself from correcting the man and chooses to humbly smile instead, “No, but thank you. I’m just passing by. You have a good evening, messere.” and offers a subtle nod of respect.

The merchant freezes and awkwardly bows nervously as Lana and Solas continue with their slow stroll through Haven. 

Once out of ear shot, Lana looks to Solas just as puzzled as the merchant, “Did I say something wrong?”

Lana’s naivety causes Solas to release a soft chuckle, “You addressed him with too much honour. You are _the Herald of Andraste_ , after all. To him, the beloved Andraste sent you back from the Fade to save the people of Haven. He should be addressing _you_ with ‘messere’, not the other way around.”

“But he’s still a human and I’m an elf. And I wish they would stop calling me the ‘Herald of Andraste’. I’m no herald of anything, least of all Andraste!”

“It matters not. The people of Haven will believe what they must. Posturing is necessary.”

Lana looks up at Solas with a deep set frown, “I won’t be deceitful.”

“I understand. However, you are a sign of hope to them, no matter your objections or beliefs.”

Lana ponders on Solas’s words for a moment before whispering, “It’s just… I’m Dalish, Solas. _Dalish!_ How can I claim to be the Herald of _their_ Andraste when my very vallaslin represents Mythal? I don’t see how-”

“Again, people will choose to believe, and even blissfully ignore, what they must. You cannot control this. What you can control however, are your actions,” Solas stops walking to regard Lana sternly. “How far are you willing to exert your power over their ignorance? Do you seek even more power? Glory perhaps? Maybe revenge for your people?”

Lana takes a step back and cries out, “I want none of those things! As I said before, I just want to help fix this mess so that I can _go home!_ ”

“And whilst I believe your intentions to be true, albeit naive, it is far easier said than done,” Solas takes a few steps ahead of Lana and stares at the Breach in the sky. “I have seen far too many tyrants and traitors in my travels, who always start with good intentions, only to be poisoned by their lust for more power. Constantly lying to themselves that their hearts have not changed, and that their goals are still pure.”

Angered by the insinuations, Lana lunges herself in front of Solas, “Are you saying that I will become a tyrant? Or a traitor?”

Unmoved by her outburst, Solas holds onto his staff with both hands as he peers down at Lana calmly, “No. What I am saying is that only time will tell. Hopefully, you have enough integrity that you may never be remembered as such,” and removes his gaze from Lana. “Although, history does have a way of repeating itself.”

Lana also averts her gaze and looks down at the mark on her hand. Although her face appears seemingly neutral, her eyes give away her internal struggles over her overwhelming responsibility.

Solas notices Lana’s silence and releases a quiet sigh, “I’m sorry. I only meant to advise. I was too forward with my questions.”

“No that’s okay,” murmurs Lana as she tucks her hand back under arm and looks up towards the Breach. “What you said is true. It’s just… I can’t believe this is happening. I may be First to my clan but this is something else entirely.”

“Yes, it is.”

As Lana continues to stare at the Breach circling above her, she slowly begins to lose herself in her mind, and almost forgets that Solas is still standing behind her.

Eventually, Lana snaps herself out of her ominous thoughts and turns back around to face Solas, “Ir abelas. What were you going to say before? Before the merchant?’

Solas brings his staff back to his side and begins walking once again, “We were talking about Spirits.”

Lana turns and walks alongside him, “Oh yes, of course. I still find it incredible that you managed to become friends with Spirits, Solas. It’s completely unheard of.”

“Anyone who can dream has the potential. Few ever try. My friends comforted me in my grief and shared in my joy. Yet because they exist without form as we understand it, the Chantry declares that Spirits are not truly people. Is Cassandra defined by her cheekbones and not her faith? Varric by his chest hair and not his wit?” 

Lana releases a loud and unexpected cheerful laugh, “Creators, that _chest chair!_ ” and continues laughing for a moment more. “And you have a good point. I really like the way you look at the world, Solas. I never thought of it like that before.”

Finding Lana’s laugh infectious, Solas releases a quiet, cheerful chuckle of his own, “I try…” and looks down at Lana with a slight grin. “And that isn’t quite an answer.”

“WelI, I’d love to meet one of these Spirits some day,” retorts Lana innocently as she regards Solas with her wide and welcoming lavender eyes. “Hopefully, we can try to make some new friends?”

Solas finds her cheerful manner infectious, considering the situation, and his smile widens. He actually cannot remember the last time he heard somebody laugh so easily and with so much joy. It was a sound he was not used to hearing, but it was a sound he found his heart ache for.

But, remembering who she is and especially who _he_ is, Solas suppresses his emotions, clears his throat and stumbles out a dispassionate response, “That should be… well.”

Assuming his reaction to be only shyness, Lana playfully nudges him and laughs, “ _That_ isn’t quite an answer, either.”

They reach a fork at the end of the road where one path leads out of Haven and another to an unused trebuchet. They immediately notice a well placed boulder, low and wide enough for them both to sit on. Solas gestures for Lana to find her place first and he follows suit, holding onto his staff with both hands as he sits down next to her.

Resting her fur, parchments, ink and quill on her lap, Lana tucks some hair behind her right ear and turns to Solas, “Earlier, I remember you saying you travelled to many different places in the Fade?”

Solas smiles and admires the horizon, watching the setting sun fill the sky with its bright orange and pink hues. 

Solas begins to tell her about Ostagar, where the Hero of Ferelden and grey warden Alistair lit the signal fire only to have Loghain betray them and their King. As Solas looks out towards the horizon, Lana can see the passion glistening in his eyes as he every so often releases a subtle smile and cheerful head nods.

For a man who claims he would rather keep to himself and not engage with others, it takes surprisingly little effort for Lana to have him to open up and share his journeys so readily. It is almost as if she is the first person to ask him about them at all. 

_Why wouldn’t people wish to know him? Or does he prevent them from doing so?_

Deciding it could be neither or it could be both, either way Lana can sense there is a lot hiding behind his silent, controlled exterior. 

Just like her father, Lana is highly sensitive and can usually, quite accurately, pick up on people’s subtle body languages. It isn’t so much as a literal observation as it is more a feeling. Just as one can sense another presence in a room; where you feel it deep in your bones, with your senses heighten, as you become keenly aware that you are not alone. 

For Lana, this level of sensitivity is both a blessing and a curse. Just as she can sense the nuances in people, she is also highly susceptible to being hurt by it. It doesn’t take a lot for her to feel emotionally overwhelmed and this is usually why being alone usually brings her such comfort or she would prefer to be around people that she’s completely herself with, and who truly know her.

Moved by another one of Solas’s journeys, Lana finds herself truly envious over his experiences and wishes she knew what he did. And that’s when it suddenly clicks. 

Lana almost leaps onto Solas with her eyes wide with exhilaration, “Solas! Enasal! Surely your travels took you to an ancient ruin of our people? Can you tell me _anything_ about the ancient elvhen? Please, you must know something!”

Solas leans back displeased, “I thought you would be more interested in sharing your opinions of elven culture. You are Dalish, are you not?”

Lana also leans away in response and answers proudly, “The Dalish are the best hope for preserving the culture of our people,” and relaxing her stance, Lana cries out again with desperation. “Therefore I implore you, _please_ tell me what you know. We can even find somewhere else to sit so that I can write it all down. Maybe the tavern, where it’s warmer?” and lifts up her parchments with a cheeky smile. “I already have what I need right here.”

Solas releases a loud, audible sigh and walks several paces away from Lana. As he surveys the sunset, he squares his shoulders while holding onto his staff with both hands and snaps, “ _Our people_. You use that phrase so casually. It should mean _more_ …” and pauses for a moment before murmuring. “But the Dalish have forgotten that. Amongst other things.”

Disturbed and shocked by Solas’s crassness towards her people, Lana struggles to verbalise her immediate thoughts and only manages a meek response, “I’m sorry?”

Solas, clearly irritated, turns on his heel to face her and barks, “While they pass on stories, mangling details, _I walk the Fade_ ,” and spins back towards the sunset. “ _I_ have seen things they have not.”

Wholly offended by Solas’s tactless accusations, and also tired of his uneven mood, Lana feels her infamous temper bubbling beneath the surface. The longer Solas stares out towards the horizon in silence, the faster her heart begins to beat. 

Feeling like a kettle hanging above the fire, with the lid jumping and rattling as it reaches its capacity to hold the heat within, Lana clutches tightly onto the fur lying on her lap as she cries out, “The Dalish are trying to restore elven history! If you know something Solas, share it!”

Solas whips his head back around, “Would your clan listen to what _I_ had learned in my studies? _My_ travels? Or would they mock the _flat-ear_ and his stories, and go back to their ruins?”

Lana gasps in anger as she shoots up, causing her belongings to fall on the ground and leaps towards him with fury burning in her eyes. Leaving only a few inches between them. Solas manages to hold his composure, but is internally floored by the extent of her outburst. Up until now, she gave no absolutely no indication that she is capable of such rage. 

What a serious miscalculation on his part. 

Solas immediately sees the error of his ways and regrets accusing Lana, and her clan, for crimes they did not even commit against him. It was unworthy of him and he knows better than to let his pride speak for him. Solas wants to immediately rectify the situation but realises it is too late. Nothing he does now will suffice.

“How _dare_ you! Why do you hold such hostility towards the Dalish? What could my people possibly have done to you that they deserve such hatred?” Solas tries to interject but Lana continues shouting over him. “I may not know what the clans in Ferelden are like, but I do know that my Keeper would _never_ turn away someone like you! You can’t paint us all with the same brush!”

Lana removes herself from Solas and begins to pace from side to side as she continues to reiterate her anger. “She’va dhal, lethallin! Why don’t you consider yourself elvhen? One of the People?” and with her hands stretched out in desperation. “Ma halani! Lasa ghilan!”

Lana’s face is twisted by the angst in her heart as she stares at Solas with her large, lavender eyes flicking with fury and frustration, while Solas continues to appear seemingly unmoved and calm.

Their pride, inflated. Her rage, unrestrained. And his regret, infinite. 

Realising that she is getting nothing but a cold response from Solas, Lana releases a loud huff, and spins around to gather her things from the ground as she cannot stand to be in this damn Fereldan cold any longer, and especially with such impertinent company.

Once she has her things firmly in her grasp, she turns back and peers heavily into Solas’s calm, dusty blue eyes, “Keep your secrets, then. Ma banal las halanshir var vhen… harellan.” and using her shoulder, she shoves Solas out of her way as she storms off in the direction from which they came.

Solas turns around and watches Lana push on as she heads towards her cabin lying directly ahead in the far distance. 

And as she brushes past the people, they turn around in shock towards Solas, and very quickly begin to gossip amongst themselves. 

_It turns out, Varric was wrong. She can bite._

_**Elvish to English Translation:** _

  * _“Ir abelas”_ = I’m sorry
  * _“Ar dirth’ma”_ = I understand
  * _“Enasal”_ = (emotion) Joyful relief
  * _“She’va dhal!”_ = I’m struggling to believe what I’m seeing or hearing!
  * _“Ma halani! Lasa ghilan!”_ = You could help us! You could guide us!
  * _“Ma banal las halanshir var vhen, harellan”_ = You do nothing to further our people, traitor.




	4. Herald of Andraste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> El'lana’s entire world is turned upside down when she, a proud Dalish elf, is bestowed the title “Herald of Andraste”.

Lana bursts into her cabin, slamming the door shut behind her and drops to the floor. Releasing her belongings from her tense grip, she allows them to fall where they may. Her breathing is heavy as her heart thrashes wildly inside her chest. With so much adrenaline surging through her body, her hands begin to shake uncontrollably as she brings them to her face.

Lana is all too familiar with having a temper, but the pure rage she’s feeling from this outburst has never happened before. Not ever. Especially towards someone she barely knows. How is it that possible that only moments ago she was laughing and enjoying his company. But now? Now she feels like a wild, savage beast wanting to claw Solas’s face off.

_How dare he say such things? How dare he have such hatred towards people he’s never even met before? People, who I love more than life itself!_

And yet, how can she allow herself to get so provoked? He was only expressing his opinion. Is she to get this enraged every time somebody vexes her? Shouldn’t she be used to the notion that the Dalish are ostracised, perhaps even by her own kind?

Lana brings her knees in towards her chest as she scrapes her fingers through her hair. She closes her eyes and takes several minutes to try and calm herself down; taking in deep breaths through the nose and exhaling out the mouth, just like the Keeper always instructed her to do.

Except this time, it isn’t working.

Resting her arms on her knees, she drops her head and quietly begins to weep. Her chest pounding at a rapid rhythm until finally she takes in one deep breath and releases a much louder, desperate wail. She brings her head back, hitting the cabin door, and brings her trembling hands up towards her face to help quieten down the volume of her cries. 

And the tears keep falling. And falling. And falling.

Is she really that angry at Solas? No, not particularly. She is indeed offended towards his tackless accusations but when it comes down to it… 

Lana is terrified. Beyond belief.

_“Blend-in as best as you can mir da’vhenan, and discover the nature of this meeting. Return to me and report what has happened. Nothing more and nothing less. Ar lath, ma da’len. May the gods guide your steps.”_

Lana realises that once word of the Conclave got to the Free Marches, and then to her clan, the Keeper would logically assume Lana had died with all the rest. In fact, Keeper Zatlen of clan Alassan has probably already sent word to the Keeper, and the clan has already planted a tree in Lana’s memory somewhere in the forest. Knowing the Keeper’s cautious behaviour, she would most likely move the clan to the safest location she knows because of the anticipated chaos between the mages and the templars. 

And Lana knows that once they move, there would be no possible way of finding them again on her own. She is no scout or hunter, and only _just_ managed to get here by following the Keeper’s strict instructions. Sure, she could go back to Kirkwall’s harbour somehow and travel through the cravis in the Vinmark Mountains, but then where would she go? East? West? North?

_I will never see them again. The Keeper. Lhoris. Tamara. My home. I won’t be there for Lhoris and Tamara’s bonding ceremony. I won’t be able to see them raise their little ones. I won’t even be there to help the Keeper as she ages._

Lana looks down at the papers scattered around her with the ink spilled across the floor, and quietly whimpers as she begins to clean up the mess.

Lana wipes the tears from her face and looks around the cabin. With the sun almost completely set, the cabin is nearly pitch dark, and she can hardly make out much, save for a single candle’s silhouette on the windowsill. With only a flick of the wrist, Lana murmurs a spell and lights the wick. The small flame fills the room with a warm, soft glow which is when she notices a large bowl laying on the table. 

Taking in a long, deep breath, and feeling somewhat calmer after that much needed cry, she forces herself up as she wipes her dripping nose with her sleeve, and slumps towards the bowl.

Lana murmurs a basic enchantment and fills the bowl with cold, fresh water. She then cups her hands in the liquid and splashes the water against her blotchy and tired face.

Lana leans against the table, hands placed on either side of the bowl and stares at her distorted reflection in the water’s rippling surface. As the water slowly begins to settle, Lana leans in closer and notices a large, dark line across her mouth. And with a quick gesture, she stills the water to get a better look. 

“Creators…”

Still struggling to see under the current light, Lana glares at the meek, little candle light and significantly enhances its flame size. 

Now satisfied by the more sufficient lighting, Lana uses one hand to hold her hair back as she leans in even closer to the water’s surface. And that’s when she gasps.

Using her free hand, Lana slowly glides her fingers across the massively brazen laceration starting from the left corner of her top lip and all the way down to her chin.

_By the dread wolf, how long have I had this?_

Lana turns her face from side to side and notices another laceration across her right cheek. This one is not as large, but it’s deeper and also new. She’s grateful that at least her vallaslin is still intact. 

Suddenly, a knock at her cabin door startles her. Lana whips her head around, stabilises the candle’s flame, and pretends she isn’t there. She is in no mood for any company.

“Lana?”

_Nope._

“It’s me… your friendly neighbourhood dwarf.”

_Funny. But, still no._

And for a short while, neither one says anything until…

“ _I have food_ …”

Lana’s stomach instantly grumbles. Releasing a soft sigh, Lana realises that she needs a warm meal more than pretending to not exist at the moment.

Desperate to appear nonchalant, Lana quickly brushes her fingers through her hair and straightens out her clothes as she walks towards the door. Taking in a deep breath, Lana opens the door by only a few inches, and peers through the small gap, as she is still in shock and deeply insecure about the scar across her lip.

Standing in the cold on the cabin’s porch is Varric, with two steaming bowls of Fereldan’s typical, hearty stew; chunky vegetables in a broth, and if the hunters had been lucky, there would be a few pieces of animal meat, too.

Varric stretches his arm out with one and Lana takes it gratefully, “Thank you, Varric. That’s really nice of you. I could have helped myself, you know? You didn’t have to come all the way here.” 

Varric huffs with a playfully dismissive hand wave, “It was no trouble. And I figured with everything going on, you most likely haven’t eaten anything today, have you?”

Lana releases a gentle smile and sways her head from side to side.

“Thought so. Well, now that I’ve fulfilled my neighbourly duty for the day. I’ll see you ‘round, El.”

Lana smiles sheeply at Varric for calling her El, as it reminds her of Lhoris, and as much as she wants to wallow in self-pity, she could really talk to somebody who isn’t in the Inquisition’s inner circle, a Chantry priestess or Creators-forbid… Solas. 

She could use a good evening with somebody who could potentially be called a friend.

“Varric…” calls Lana, and Varric turns around to regard her with a gentle smile, “You can come in if you like? If you want to, of course. I don’t want to intrude on your evening plans or anything.”

“If by ‘plans’ you mean waiting around for the world to end?” and shrugs his shoulders sarcastically. “I think I can push that back.”

Lana laughs and lets Varric in.

Once Lana closes the door behind them, she frantically looks about the room for a place to seat her guest, “You can sit… here.” and quickly puts her evening meal down on the table as she drags the only chair in the cabin out for Varric.

“Hey, don’t worry about me, I’m happy standing.”

Lana stops moving the chair towards him as she is unsure of what to do next. She isn’t used to entertaining “guests” and doesn’t know what the “rules” are. So instead, she settles for an awkward stare down. 

“Come on,” persists Varric as he moves himself to the corner of the table, placing his bowl down. “I insist.” and gestures for Lana to take the chair. 

Lana releases a sheepish grin, brings the chair in towards the table and sits down, “Thank you.” and brings her bowl in closer as they both dig into their meal.

“So,” begins Varric. “Now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, are you holding up alright? I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than just one day.”

Taking a big gulp of her stew, “I have no idea what’s happening anymore.”

Varric chuckles, “That makes two of us. For days now, we’ve been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it. ‘Bad for morale’ would be an understatement,” Varric pauses and looks down into his steaming meal. “I still can’t believe _anyone_ was in there and lived.”

“If it was that bad, why did you stay? Cassandra said you were free to go.” 

Lana brings a spoonful of hot broth up-to her mouth and then slowly sips at the edges of the spoon.

Varric stops stirring his vegetables around and sighs, “I like to think I’m as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this,” shaking his head and looking mournfully at Lana. “ _Thousands_ of people died on that mountain. _I_ was almost one of them! And now there’s a hole in the sky? Even I can’t even walk away and just leave that to sort itself out.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, thank you for staying. The Breach needs to be sealed. The sooner the better.”

“ _If_ it can be sealed,” Varric leans against the cabin walls and looks at Lana for a moment as he contemplates something, and then moves in closer to whisper. “You might want to consider running at the first opportunity. I’ve written enough tragedies to recognise where this is going,” and leans back to take a spoonful of stew. “Heroes are everywhere. I’ve seen that. But the hole in the sky? That’s beyond heroes. We’re going to need a miracle.”

Lana looks down at her bowl and begins to lose herself in the bobbing vegetable chunks in her stew, “I wish everybody else saw it that way. I’m just… _me_.”

Varric pushes away his empty bowl and sighs. “Look, I’m just going to say it…” and Lana looks up at Varric puzzled. “That stew was… _terrible!_ ”

Lana relaxes and laughs with a light and pleasant sound, “It’s not the best, is it?”

“Are you kidding?” Varric fans his fingers across his chest dramatically. “Even _I_ could make a better stew than this nug-shit, and that’s saying something.”

“Yeah, I’m not a very good cook either. I suppose I never had to really learn. We always had at least two people dedicated to preparing the meals back home.”

Varric leans against the cabin wall again and crosses his arms over his chest, “You’re from the Marchers, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Pointing his thumb up towards himself, “Kirkwall.”

Lana smiles widens as she cries out, “I had no idea! What a small world! I’ve only been to Kirkwall once, although I’ve only been in the harbour mind you. Up until recently, I had never been anywhere else. Only Tamara would go to the towns or cities to trade with the shems.”

“Tamara?”

Lana shakes her head at her foolishness, “Oh right, sorry. Tamara is one of my clan’s merchants,” and pauses before murmuring. “But to me, she’s more like a sister.”

With kind and caring eyes, Varric attempts to console Lana. “You must miss her. Has Liliana managed to contact your clan yet?”

Digging and fumbling around in her almost empty bowl, Lana looks up at Varric with confusion. “No?”

“ _Maker’s breath!_ ” cries Varric. “Okay, first thing tomorrow morning, find Liliana and tell her you need to contact your clan.”

“That’s sweet Varric but news of the Conclave would have reached them by now. They probably think I’m dead and moved on. I wouldn’t know how to find them.”

Varric leans across the table and looks at Lana with a confidant grin. “Trust me, Liliana can find them. Don’t you worry about that, kiddo.”

“Really?” 

Varric stands up straight, crosses his arms over his chest and simply nods.

Lana quietly judges Varric’s confidence, and realises that if Liliana really can find her clan, then that means she can allow herself to hope to be reunited with her family once everything is over.

“I would be truly grateful! Thank you, Varric.”

“No problem,” Varric drops his arms and scratches the back of his head, “Man, I’m glad to have a warm meal but Maker’s breath, that was just awful.”

Lana releases another carefree laugh but is instantly interrupted by another sudden and unexpected knock at the door.

Varric turns his head towards the door and looks back at Lana with a cheeky smile and raised eyebrow, “Expecting someone?”

Realising his carnal insinuation, Lana blushes and cries out, “Creators! No!” and Varric laughs wildly while she calls towards the door, “Who is it?”

And a quiet, soothing voice answers back, “Solas. Apologies for the intrusion, but I was hoping for only a moment of your time?”

Lana’s pleasant mood visibly dissipates and she slumps into her chair, rolls her eyes and releases a loud groan. Which causes Varric to raise both eyebrows in surprise at her sudden, dramatic shift in mood. She then shoves the chair back, causing a loud screech on the wooden floor and marchers over to the door. 

With one swift motion, Lana opens the door wide enough to clearly indicate she isn’t alone and that Solas is indeed intruding on her very pleasant evening.

“Oh,” gasps Solas as he looks at Varric, who waves back at him awkwardly. “I didn’t realise you had company.” 

With one hand on the door and the other resting on her hip, Lana snaps. “Is there something you need, Solas?”

Solas looks back at Lana, “It’s no matter. I will find you-”

“You know what,” mutters Varric from inside the cabin as he grabs both bowls. “I was just about to leave anyway,” and walks towards the door, and past the two very clearly, upset elves. “So if you don’t mind me El, I think I’ll be heading off. It was good catching up.”

Varric staying is the only reasonable excuse Lana can use to dismiss Solas. But with her excuse literally walking out the door, Lana desperately cries out, “Varric, there’s really no need-”

“It’s no problem,” insists Varric. “I need a few mugs of ale to wash down this stew anyhow,” and begins walking questionably fast as he shouts without looking back, “See you kids in the morning!” and leaves Lana and Solas to watch him disappear into the darkness.

Eventually Lana murmurs, “Good night…”

_Shit._

With his arms behind his back, Solas turns back around and looks down at Lana, who is still blocking the entrance to the cabin. 

Feeling his gaze on her, Lana ultimately looks back at him in return. Neither one says anything.

_Well, this is just GREAT._

And as if they were in one of Varric’s cheesy romance novels, they both speak up at the same time. 

Lana releases a forced, awkward laugh and averts her gaze while Solas holds his own without managing to break eye contact. 

Clearly uncomfortable and wanting to get out of the cold, Lana attempts to speak first, “Do you… do you want to come in?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Lana steps aside, allowing Solas in and closes the door behind him. Still lingering at the entrance, she turns around and watches him stride to the middle of the room and then turn back around to face her. His shoulders pulled back, standing perfectly poised and straight.

Lana isn’t sure what to do now, so she folds her arms across her chest and looks around the room awkwardly. 

_Why is he just staring at me?_

With a calm and controlled voice, Solas finally breaks the tension, “I wanted to apologise. Again. It seems I am constantly finding new ways to offend you,” Lana flicks her gaze back at him, visibly surprised. “I should not have allowed my previous experience with the Dalish to cloud my opinion of your clan. I regretfully admit that I have indeed ‘painted you with the same brush’ so to speak. And for that, I’m sorry.”

By his mannerism and delivery, it is clearly evident that Solas really means every word. He truly is regretful and Lana finds herself shamefully surprised.

After their confrontation, she had decided that he was an arrogant, selfish man who relishes in being superior in knowledge, intellect and rare experiences as a dreamer. 

But now?

Lana visibly relaxes her tense shoulders and feebly murmurs, “Thank you.”

Solas turns his gaze away from Lana and walks towards the window, the candle’s light subtly highlighting the edges of his silhouette, “You see, I have wondered many roads in my time, and crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion. I have offered to share my knowledge, only to be attacked for no greater reason than their superstition. Most care very little about improving their lives. They already consider themselves perfect, the sole keepers of elven lore,”

Solas drops his head and closes his eyes, “Liar. Fool. Madman. There are endless ways to say someone isn’t worth listening to,” and he turns his head around with his eyes giving away his pain. “Over time, it grinds away at you.”

Lana can’t stop herself from staring at him as she left completely lost for words. His misery and suffering tugging at her empathic heart.

Lana takes a small step forward, “Solas-”

“Until today,” interjects Solas as he turns around fully with a gentle smile. “You are the first of your people to ask me about my travels, my stories,” and awkwardly tugs at his sleeves. “It’s been… a long time since anyone has shown genuine interest in what I have to share. And if you’d like, I would be more than happy to answer any of your questions, to the best of my ability.” 

With a subtle nod, Lana smiles sincerely, “Thank you, I would like that very much.”

Solas smiles back and moves closer to Lana, his tall and broad physique blocking the candle’s light. 

“Before I take my leave, I have something of yours,” and removes a rolled piece of parchment from his belt, and hands it over to Lana. “I believe you might be missing this.”

Confused, Lana takes the parchment, looks at Solas for a moment, and proceeds to slowly unravel it before him as she gasps. It’s her unfinished sketch of the Keeper. 

“I had no idea I dropped it!” and looks up at Solas with a sincere smile, “Thank you.”

Solas nods with a gentle smile in return, “You’re welcome. And I believe I’ve taken up enough of your time.” 

Solas walks towards the door as Lana follows him. He opens the door, steps outside and looks down at Lana with a sincere smile, “I will see you in the morning.” and begins closing the door.

Impulsively, Lana leaps forward and grabs onto the side of the door and calls out, “Solas, wait…”

Solas lets go of the door handle, turns around and stares at Lana curiously. 

Lana opens the door a little further and looks down at the ground for a moment before looking back up at Solas with remorse, “I would like to apologise for my behaviour, too. I said a lot of things to you which were unkind and hurtful, and I let my temper get the better of me… ir abelas, lethallin.”

Solas releases a heartfelt smile and nods, “Thank you.”

After hearing Solas’s tragic story about how the Dalish have treated him in the past, she cannot help but feel embarrassed and ashamed, and feels she needs to apologise on behalf of her people, too, “And I’m sorry for how the Dalish have treated you in the past. I truly had no idea,” and with her deep set frown and pale, lavender eyes peering up at him, she bravely declares, “It isn’t right and if I am ever in the position to change things, I know exactly where to start.” 

“You are a rarity amongst your people, da’len. And thank you for allowing me to speak with you this evening. I look forward to our many academic discussions moving forward.”

And with that, Solas turns around and walks away. Only once she can no longer see him, does Lana slowly close the door and look down at the unfinished picture of Keeper Deshanna. A bit crinkled, but no matter. She’s just happy to have the Keeper back with her.

Unbelievably exhausted, Lana decides to call it a day and puts the Keeper back with the others. She then takes the candlestick from the windowsill and places it in the middle of the room. 

She then proceeds to take apart her nicely made bed and apologises, in her mind, to whomever makes her bed for her as they will find everything on the floor. Again.

Using the thin cotton sheet, she lays it neatly on the cabin floor next to the bed. Then, taking her loose wolf fur, she lays it down on the sheet and immediately follows with laying out the softer, stuffed blanket on top of that. 

Once nicely centered, she visually divides the blanket into thirds, folding the right-third inwards and then the left-third over that. Then she tucks the bottom of her makeshift cocoon underneath itself and stands back to admire her work. 

_Well, if this is the closest I’ll get to what I have back home, then that’s fine with me._

Satisfied, Lana grabs the last crucial element of her creation - the pillow. 

Once changed into her sleepwear, Lana wiggles her way into her bed and turns around to face the candle, and stares into its dull, dim glow as it reaches the end of its wick.

_First thing tomorrow I will find Liliana, so that she can try to contact the Keeper before Cassandra keeps me busy all day._

_Then, I’ll find Solas in the evening to learn more about the ancient elvhen._

Lana closes her heavy, tired eyes and its not long until the flame of the candle runs out. 

_Oh, and don’t forget to ask him about that strange shoe-thing across his neck._

_Oh wait, it can’t be a shoe - doesn’t it have teeth?_

**_Elvish to English Translation:_ **

  * _“Mir da’vhenan”_ = my little-heart
  * _“Ar lath, ma da’len”_ = I love you, my child




End file.
